


Gilded Swordlily (cancelled)

by kingsocean



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Description, Injury, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsocean/pseuds/kingsocean
Summary: Gladiolus is knighted as Regis’s new shield after the death of Clarus. As the oldest of the bros, Gladio feels he’s ready for the responsibility—but there is a hole in the place Clarus has left, a gap between Gladio and the man named Regis—a man who could supposedly ruin his father’s marriage. There are pieces of Clarus’s life left behind, and Gladio can’t help feeling like his father is a stranger to him. Not much time is left to dwelling as the Crowned King’s Shield is a serious and heavy job, and Gladiolus finds himself with no time left for fun with bros, or even with the ladies.Gladio realizes just how exhausting the work is, how exhausting it is to be the King, and to be his shield. Gladio starts to piece together the life of a man he never knew, a man named Clarus, and how his relationship with his wife could be torn apart so severely.





	Gilded Swordlily (cancelled)

**Author's Note:**

> The person who commissioned this fic no longer is in the fandom, and most likely this fic is cancelled.

 

“This Court now calls Lord Gladiolus Amicitia to come before the Crown.”

Nerves shoot down Gladiolus’s spine, and back up. A glance to the others. Prompto gives him a small smile with his lips press – a small reassuring thumbs up. Ignis nods. Noctis glances, and also nods his head. Gladiolus stands up from where he was seated, it is so quiet, and every step of boots on the black marble tiles echo like a large cavern. Many familiar faces. It feels like the funeral all over again – _don’t think about it._

            Gladiolus ascends the stairs, standing before King Regis. His hands are trembling. Pulse in his throat. Regis looks so stern, so deadly serious, not solemn or soft like he was only a few days ago—tears rolling down his cheeks over the coffin— _don’t think about it_.

            “—that was offered to you in Cavaugh?”

            Gladio blinked, realizing he missed whatever the lady said to him. He looks to her. Madame Bellis – he once called her Aunty when he was little. She was a close friend of Clarus. Hair at shoulder length, a kind, young looking face, although some wrinkles around her mouth. His own mouth feels dry. She looks at him, a smile that must be made of pity, and gives him a very slow, not so obvious nod of her head.

            “Yes ma’am.” Gladio responded. “I have.”

            She bows, and steps back. This time, Regis steps forward, rising from his seat. He could’ve kept the sword in the weapon hold, but it seems the King is more traditional, and keeps it at his side. Gladio can hear the sheath hit, and slide on the ground at Regis’s side, and its dull thud and each step feels like his heavy heart, pounding in his ears. Thud. Thud. Thud—

            “You have been deemed worth of this estate by me and your peers around you.” Regis gestured to the court, and far back, towards his own son, and the two friends. “You have shown your wiliness to accept this calling. Do you swear to all you hold sacred and true, that under the light of Bahamut’s guidance, you will honor your calling as Shield of the King, and defend the Crown and all its inhabitants?”

            “I will, your Majesty.”

            “Will you defend and protect all who are weaker than you, and keep safe those who are in need of refuge?”

            “I will, your Majesty.”

            “You will conduct yourself only in manners befitting of a Shield of the King, be respectful of your peers, and of this Court, from now, for so long as you may live?”

            “I will, your Majesty.”

            There is a bit of flare, although Regis may seem like he’d be shaky, he removes the large sword fluidly, with only one hand, the other resting on the sheath, and Gladiolus tenses at the sound of a metal sword sliding out of it’s sheath. Gladiolus shuts his eyes, and swallows thick, feeling the sensation of metal on his left shoulder.

            “By swearing these sacred oaths known now that we, King Regis Lucis Caelum, and Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, King and Prince of Lucis, do dub you with this sword, and by all you hold sacred and true. Once, twice, thrice – Arise, son of Lucis. Shield of the King. Sir Gladiolus Amicitia.”

            Gladiolus doesn’t really _feel_ himself stand up, just that he did in fact stand up. There is some thunderous noise, he realizes is applause. He flashes a quick look at Iris, who either looks like she was crying, or she just yawned and tears had welled in her eyes—either way, Gladiolus looks away, focusing on the King. In the next instant, there is a feathery black cape on his shoulders. Feathers. Like the bird tattooed on his body.

            There are more words, but he finds himself completely deaf when they give him another item. A sword. His father’s sword. Still with scars in the metal, and dented, and dried blood still trapped in the handle and Gladio realizes his hands are shaking to take it, and whatever comes after that is completely gone. Regis is saying something, but Gladiolus just watches his mouth move, and nothing come out. There’s cheering. Some clapping. Regis sheathed his sword, and Gladiolus takes the arm and returns it to _his_ weapon hold— and then bows graciously to the King. His new companion.

* * *

 

            “Sheesh, that was a stuffy affair.” Noctis was pulling at the button on his neck, that kept his suit so tight to his throat.

            “You can say that again.” Gladio’s voice is still so low and baritone, and he sinks into the couch—after carefully hanging up the cape in his closet.

            “You were lookin good up there, big guy.”

            “I’m always lookin good.” Gladio scoffed, and sank back in his chair.

            “Are you really sure you’re ready? It hasn’t been very long since…”

            Ignis’s remarks makes the rest of them quiet up, even Iris, who was quietly feeding the little fluffball they called a dog. Gladiolus sighed, and shifted the couch pillows around.

            “Yeah, well what am I gonna do? King’s in a bad spot. He wanted to postpone it too. Just told him it was better to get it over with. Can’t leave King Regis without a shield.”

            “So… what about Noct?” Prompto spoke up.

            “Whadya mean?”

            “Well. Are you Noct’s shield _and_ the King’s shield?”

            “It don’t work like that.” Gladio waved his hand at Prompto. “It’s different. It’s like a promotion. I’m working with the King now. Just him.”

            “What about Noct?”

            “That’s why he has you two.” Gladiolus scoffed.

            “Really? So I’m a shield now?” Prompto looked between Noctis and Gladio, but only saw Noctis roll his eyes.

            “It’s more complicated than that.” Ignis took the reigns of explaining. “It’s a family thing. Generations of Amicitia have served the King. They are royalty in their own right. If someone will truly be the Prince’s shield, it will be another Amicitia. Just not Gladio.”

            “My sister will most likely be picking up the slack.”

            “Iris?” Prompto looked over to her, she was busy burying her face in the stomach of their chow-chow dog. “Is she really gonna be that?”

            “She may still be a minor, but she can kick your ass halfway to Sunday.” Gladio challenged. “She’s been training for a couple years now. Still wet behind the ears, but she’ll give you a run for your money.”

            Prompto seemed surprised. It hadn’t fully occurred to him that Iris too was trained to be a shield. He shifted back on the pillows.

            “Look, I shouldn’t need a Shield anyway. My father shouldn’t either… none of this should’ve happened.” Noctis huffed.

            “We couldn’t have predicted this, okay?” Gladio huffed. “You’re gonna still go to college, and Ignis will be with you. Iris won’t have to come down or anything. She’ll train with Dustin and Monica and me. Stop worrying about it.”

            “How can I not?” Noctis protested. “This—your life is in our hands.”

            “I think you got it backwards wise guy— _your_ life is in _my_ hands.” Gladio huffed. “You remember what Bellis said? My dad is probably proud up there, knowing he died protecting the King.”

            The remark silences them. Gladiolus can’t take it. He rolls his eyes, and gets up off the couch. “Jared?” He calls out.

            A couple quieter seconds, and the door on the far right of the living room pops open, and the older man is standing there. “Yes sir?”

            “How long ya think it’ll take?”

            “Just a few minutes sir.” Jared bows his head. “Still a bit hot.”

            “We can handle hot!” Prompto jumps up. “What’s cookin tonight?”

            “Enchiladas, sir Prompto.” Jared replied. Prompto seemed very pleased being called ‘sir’, smiling a bit.

            “Very well. I shall prep the table.”

            “Oh—I can do that.” Iris chimed in.

            “I’ll help.” Prompto included.

            They both went off. Prompto seemed more interested in asking Iris about all the types of kickass fighting she learned. Seemed shifting the topic to food was helpful, and Gladio let out a content sigh.

            “Don’t try to procrastinate this.” Ignis remarked. “You two need to get things sorted out.”

            “Get what sorted out?” Noctis and Gladio spoke at nearly the same time, and glanced at each other. Ignis rolled his eyes.

            “For one thing—your personal feelings about this. Two, your father issues. You can’t just leave this in the air.”

            “You don’t still have hard feelings, do you?” Gladio looked at Noctis. Noctis looked somewhat irritable, but sighed.

            “I can’t believe dad is doing this to you.”

            “Aw, come on, it’s gonna happen someday. I’m old enough. We didn’t have options. I gave him the okay to go ahead with it.”

            “You didn’t even get time to mourn—”

            “Well what fuckin good will that do me?” Gladio snapped.

            Noctis furrowed his brow. The creases made him look more like Regis.

            “We can’t waste time. Not with Niflheim getting bold like this. I need to make a decision. I can’t risk you and your father’s life from pussyfooting around the issue like I ain’t got something to do here. I know what my dad would’ve wanted. End discussion.”

            “Fine. Fine by me.” Noctis threw his arms up like a surrender, and walked away.

            Ignis looked at Gladio while Noctis walked to the dining room. Gladio looked back. “What?”

            “Don’t try to consider that as settling things.”

            “What was I supposed to do?”

            “Nevermind.” Ignis sighed. “Go sit down and eat.”

            Nobody complained at the idea. The dining hall was large, and even with this many people, it always felt small. Gladio scooped a big spoonful of enchilada, and had to pause while Jared decided to say grace and pray for them, and for Clarus, and for all their souls and all Gladio could do is hope his stomach didn’t make a noise in the quiet.

            “Where’s Talcott, he not joining?”

            “Talcott is at his friend’s house.”

            Gladio nodded, and took a bite out of enchilada. It was good. He complimented. Prompto did as well—well, after he asked for something to spice it up a bit more. Noctis picked at some green stuff on top of the dish, but he didn’t complain about anything. Ignis sat on Gladio’s left side, and turned to look at him.

            “What?” Gladio huffed.

            “I’m just worried. That’s all.”

            “About what? I’ve been Noct’s shield since forever. It’s the same thing.”

            “It’s not the same thing. Your father’s position is a very important one Gladio, it’s always been important—but… I worry you’re unprepared sometimes. The politics of it all. The paperwork, the sifting through folders, all the things that kept your father up late at night, and the King as well—do you really think you can handle it?”

            Gladio shrugged, and took a large forkful of enchilada. “How hard could it be?”

* * *

 

Gladio did not have time to feel any sense of sorrow or sadness over his father’s empty office room, surrounded by pictures of himself, and of Iris as a young baby, of a mother he could barely recall, of Clarus and his old friends. Instead, he was busy hauling reports his father hadn’t done—taking them to the accounting block, accidentally sending accounting reports that should’ve been at the front desk instead of accounting, reports for new officers who still hadn’t gotten uniformed properly, mismanaged training, and telling Cor Leonis exactly what they hell they were supposed to be going over today in Crownsguards division.

            Gladiolus found himself panting for air just dashing through the halls with his new outfit on—that ridiculous black and gold cloak that his father wore—he even had the gloves on, but by noon he’d cut them with a pair of scissors and made one fingerless, and on the other, totally removed the finger parts, just making it a wrap between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. It was unprofessional as all hell, jagged edges around the glove where he cut, and he was looking disheveled, but Gladio didn’t even care—he had a lunch break, but that felt like time he could be spending getting shit straightened out—not time to sip on water and eat some fancy little meal.

            And then the King gives orders— _orders_ for him to eat with him. So, Gladiolus goes down the hall, to the elevator, furiously figures out what floor the dining hall is on, finds out its upstairs, and takes that small minute of peace in the corner of the elevator as time to unwind.

            “Excuse my lateness sir.” Gladiolus gets on one knee and bows to King Regis. The hall is wide and has two Lucian Royal Guards on either side of Regis. There is a smaller black table by the window, where two silver domes cover a meal. Gladiolus realized he’s panting, and exhaled through his nose as quiet as possible. “I um… I got lost.”

            “Oh?” Regis raised his brow. “Did you now? Are you all right? Take a seat dear.” So completely different from yesterday. He seems kind again. Quieter, and reaches to Gladio’s jacket. “Is it not hot in that?”

            Gladio blinked. He supposed it felt fine, it was how the damn thing practically got tangled in his legs that irritated him.

            “It’s fine, Your Majesty.”

            Regis nodded. He walked over to the table, and pulled a chair, but didn’t sit down. “Come here, please.”

            Gladio got up, and moved to the seat Regis had pulled out for him. He was about to sit down, and instead walked over to Regis’s chair, and pulled it out.

            “You first.” Gladio remarked.

            Regis smiled, and bowed his head, ducking down, and sitting down first. Gladio soon joined, sitting across from him. Gladio watched them remove the cover, anak steak and hot mashed potatoes with a salad. His stomach lurched. It made a noise and Gladio shut his eyes as if disappointed in his own body. He opened up just to see Regis stifling a chuckle.

            “I heard that you hadn’t eaten.”

            Gladio raised his brow, he didn’t know _why_ Regis would know that, or how anyone would know that, but it wasn’t wrong. He’s just not sure that seemed important to a King.

            “Just a bit busy.” Gladio remarked. “Didn’t notice the time.”

            Regis nodded. “Well, please eat.” He gestured to the table.

            Gladio ate, the steak was soft enough to cut with his fork, and sauced well. He’d been to more than a handful of fancy dinners for his father’s sake, but never one so… intimate.

            “How has your first day been?”

            Gladio assumed this was the whole reason Regis invited him. “Good.” He remarked.

            “Good?” Regis tilted his head.

            “Well, it’s been busy.” Gladio remarked. “I uh… didn’t know there was so much paperwork.”

            “Well, everything needs to be written down. It travels somewhere.” Regis remarked. Gladio nodded in response. He had done all sorts of reports before—he never really thought about how it travelled up to his father. It always seemed like it just disappeared. Gladio ate a bit more, and took a pitcher of water to pour himself a glass and drank. He was usually quiet when he ate—but he had a feeling Regis wanted him to talk. Lest he wouldn’t have invited him in the first place.

            “I’ll be honest—” Regis seemed to cut his thoughts off. “I can’t say I know you personally. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or awkward—”

            _Too late_ , Gladio thought.

            “Which is why I feel it’d be better to get to know you. It… also feels very soon. I know… I know you requested this, but… I feel I never asked. After everything happened, and with your father… How are you doing right now?”

            He looked at Regis. He was a kind faced man. His expression showed genuine concern, even despite all the awkwardness. Gladio had been told a lot of things after Clarus bit the dust. He _felt_ a lot of things. The dirt hadn’t even settled on that grave when Gladio requested to take his father’s position. Fully. He hadn’t been fully prepared. Gladio knew that now, on his first day, and he wasn’t sure what would happen next. A lot of people said “I’m sorry.” For the loss. Some of them said “He’s in a better place.” Like they even know. But Gladio found himself staring at his plate at Regis’s question. _How are you doing right now?_ It felt so concerned and honest. And Gladio couldn’t actually say how _he_ felt right now. He wasn’t sure.

            “Gladio?” Regis tilted his head.

            “Uh—I’m good, your Majesty. Thank you.” Gladio continued to cut the steak, even though it wasn’t necessary. He tried to think, pulse pounding in his ears. “It’s just been a lot.”

            “I thought as much.” Regis dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I was concerned… I understood your request to be my shield, but the things your father was in charge of… surely it is not easy taking over. Are you sure you don’t wish for another Senior to take some of the work for you?”

            Gladio hesitated. “It’s only the first day. Let’s see what I can do. If I’m not able to do everything, I’ll work it out. Send something down the line.”

            “I know Lady Bellis has volunteered to help you.”

            “Yeah, I figured she would. I’m okay. Trust me.” Gladio remarked, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll admit, I sent the Crownsguard a bunch of accounting papers, and the Accountant I sent a bunch of New Crownsguard Uniforms.” He looked a bit embarrassed, he’s surprised, but actually extremely relieved to hear Regis actually stifle a laugh.

            “Hopefully that is sorted out?”

            “Oh yeah. Course. I made sure.” Gladio explained. “Just goes to show I’m still settling in. Gotta get my head in the game.”

            “If you are feeling distracted, I will understand you taking another week to adjust—”

            “No.” Gladio is firm. “I know my dad’s death is a hard blow. It is to us… it is to you. But there’s a lot that needs to get done. Crown City didn’t stop running just cause he’s gone. And there was an attempt at your _life_ , your Majesty.” Gladio sees the look on Regis’s face and wishes he was less firm. It seemed, perhaps Regis was still very devastated about Clarus. He didn’t cry, but he looked distraught. Gladio settled down. “I’m sorry. I just… it won’t be for nothing, okay? He would’ve wanted me to do this. And I want to too. Whether you like it or not, you’re an important man, your Majesty.”

            Regis nodded, looking solemn, and Gladio wondered what he said that was wrong. But Regis continued to eat, at least, until he was full. Gladio noticed before, but Regis ate like a bird sometimes, just tiny bites and sips of water, and Gladio had a feeling it wasn’t for regality sake—the sickness the Lucii brought him—it was excruciating at times.

            “How bout you?”

            “Excuse me?” Regis looked up.

            Gladio looked, chewed his food, and swallowed before he spoke. “How are you feeling? You two were… close yeah?”

            Regis blinked, and smiled. “It’s… it’s sudden but, I’m old enough, that I know how to deal with this.”

            Gladio could only wish for that maturity, but he wasn’t sure he could handle the amount of mourning that came with it.

            “Still…” Regis remarked. “We were close. I wish I could’ve done something at the time…”

            “There was nothing anyone coulda done.” Gladio spoke up. “Don’t blame yourself. He did his job. He saw it through. Okay? He’s content. He’s restin easy. We’re the only people losing sleep over this.”

            Regis pressed his lips for a moment. “I suppose you’re right.” He remarked. “I shouldn’t dwell on it. It’s just going to take a while…”

            “Just take your time.” Gladio returned. “We’re dealing with it in our own ways.”

            “You’re very pragmatic.” Regis remarked. “I admit I’m surprised.”

            “That’s the Amicitia part of me.” Gladio replied. A small smirk. He eats mostly in silence, although Regis does ask a few things – anything challenging in work, what Gladio was up to, what Iris was up to, how did she feel – Gladio answered honestly about Iris, and mostly with lies about himself. He continued to confirm he was fine, until the lunch was over, and Regis thanks him for his company, and Gladio bows to him, and walks him to the elevator.

            “Will we be working together closely?” Gladio asked.

            “Usually in more social events.” Regis explained. “Although we did spend our breaks together sometimes. It was easier to get to know each other… I hope I can get to know you better.”

            The elevator rings. Gladio is going down, Regis is going up, Gladio gets in alone.

            “Trust me. You will.” Gladio winks, and the doors close before Regis responds.

* * *

 

As Gladio so jokingly put it, Clarus had the decency to die during a break time. Iris was out of school, the semester had just ended at the University of Insomnia, the Kingsglaive didn't have a deployment for about a week after his death, and there were no real plans for diplomats or aristocrats to visit Lucis in the following months to come. Gladio graciously had time to get used to the job. He had three main things, broken into dozens of other jobs.

            First, resources. Making sure gil was being paid for weapons and uniforms and magic flasks and other items like MRE’s, and medical supplies, and them making sure the items came in on time, and got distributed. Two, management. The chain of Command was tight and well managed, Gladio had to study it the least of all three. Gladio was still not used to ordering Cor or Titus around—not that he actually had too, both of them were in control of their own soldiers respectively. It was them checking in on Gladio and making sure he was okay with that. Three, filling in for the King. There was a thousand damn things Regis needed to do, and when he couldn’t do it, that fell on the shoulders of Gladio. He’d sat in on the most tedious and boring of meetings, not even really able to get a word in, because there was nothing to really talk about.

            “Lookin slim buddy.” Prompto’s voice almost felt unusual—Gladio hadn’t been with them for a whole month. He’d had them call, or pop in to see him, but he always just shooed them away. Being in person with them was not the same as texting or logging in for a round of King's Knight before bed.

            “Whadaya mean?” Gladio huffed, looking around.

            Prompto leaned over, and yanked the belt around his waist. Gladio jolted—which surprised Prompto. Gladio had to admit, being a Senior Lucian Offical also meant another thing, nobody touched you. Not that being touchy-feely was a part of any job, but training a shield was more physical than _being_ a shield—practice fighting was always physical. Grabbing, tossing, punching, manhandling each other—it was the way it worked. Hanging out was more frequent, roughhousing and drinking and patting each other and giving a playful shove. Now Gladio had such a high position, people shied away from his presence, as if they were worried to step near the ground he’d walked on.

            And because of it, Gladio found himself shying away from people too.

            “What’s wrong?” Prompto asked, immediately releasing the belt.

            “Nuthin.” Gladio took a step away still. It had been a while since he wore anything but that ridiculous cloak, he was so used to the weird tassels hitting his arms, and the cloak tangling his legs. After a month of it… it actually felt wrong to not have it on. Being in just a tank top and pants was new.

            “That tank used to be super tight on you. Now look at it.” Prompto pointed, but this time he didn’t grab. “And you never wore a belt with those jeans. Didn’t those used to fit you? … You on a diet?”

            _Yeah, the, fuck I forgot about that report all I had for lunch was a cup of water and a stick of gum diet._ Gladio thought that to himself, and then he shrugged. “Yeah. Got a different job, so, got a different physique.”

            “How’s Iris been?”

            “She hangs out with Cor and Monica a bit.” Gladio lied. He didn’t know, although he heard some things from Cor and Monica. Iris was on a stricter regiment now with training, but he really hadn’t seen her. He would come home late, Iris asleep on the couch, and he’d take her to her room, do his own rituals, and he would wake and leave before Iris woke that morning. Gladio had even been found sleeping at his desk in the late night.

            “That must be so cool.” Prompto huffed. “Hanging out with the Immortal and his crew.”

            “She seems pretty lukewarm about it.” Gladio continued to lie.

            “Ugh, I just figure we should hang out before school starts.”

            “Schools gonna start?” Gladio raised his brow.

            “Yeah! Well, high school first. I know Iris is getting ready. Then college. Ignis is already finishing up his masters, and me and Noctis, well… ya know.”

            “Yeah.” Gladio really didn’t know. He made a mental note to write it down on his own desk calendar. “You guys just keep truckin.”

            “They’ll meet up with us soon.” Prompto explained. “We figure we hang out at Kenny’s. We just never see you anymore! It really sucks.”

            “Well. Just have a lot of things to look over.”

            “Yeah, ya think? What’s in that thing anyway?” Prompto pointed down at Gladio’s left hand. He had a briefcase, black and gold too – as if there was any doubt.

            “Just something I wanted to look over.”

            “Cmooonnn.” Prompto huffed. “You can’t work all the time!”

            “It’s not work.” Gladio remarked, but even Prompto didn’t looked convinced. “It’s something else."

            “What is it then?”

            “Can’t say.”

            “Oh, it’s a secret?” Prompto scoffed. “Fiiine.”

            Gladio would’ve been grateful if he knew for sure Prompto wouldn’t ask again, but he didn’t count on it. Instead Prompto found a booth he liked, and Gladio slid in towards the window, and Prompto sat across from him. Gladio set the briefcase down, and started to go over the paperwork. He read quickly, but he always felt a sensation that someone was reading over his shoulder when he was in public—and he didn’t want anyone to read his work. He didn’t know who to trust.

            “You look paler too.” Prompto pointed out. “You haven’t been getting much sun, huh?”

            “Mhm.” Gladio nodded. He leaned in a bit to look at the papers, squinting to focus on the text there. There was so much subtle small text that he had to double check- legal work was full of roundabout words and something that sounded straightforward but had double meanings. It was irritating to work out.

            “Are you paying attention?”

            “Yeah.”

            “…” Prompto pressed his lips thin and made a cross looking face. “I’m pregnant.”

            “Mhm.”

            “It’s Iris’s baby.”

            Gladio pulled out a blue pen, and drew a line through a couple lines of text.

            “Gladio!” Prompto put his hands on the table, huffing.

            “What?” Gladio looked up, eyes wide.

            “You’re not paying attention.”

            “I am.” Gladio huffed.

            “What I just say?”

            Gladio didn’t say anything.

            “See? Put that away!” Prompto tried to shoo the papers like they’d get up and go away.

            “Just gimme a second.” Gladio remarked. “This is kinda important.”

            Gladio continued to read, drawing an arrow, and Prompto read him writing the phrase ‘ _this will interfere with Accordiano trade deals_ ’ before Gladio suddenly pulls in his paperwork and leans closer to the window to get more sunlight.

            “This is hard work, huh?” Prompto remarked with a sigh.

            “Nah… just tedious.”

            Prompto stared at his form. Gladio was focused intently on the paper, flipping through the writing. He looked pale, his olive skin looked more pallid, like he wasn’t getting sun, and though he certainly had muscles, they didn’t seem to be as large and taut like before.

            “Well, well, who’s your friend Prompto?”

            Prompto looked up, and after a second, Gladio did too, and saw Noctis standing there with his arms folded.

            “Have we met before?” Noctis remarked.

            “Good to see you too, ass.” Gladio retorted.

            “Good to know you haven’t become an insufferable stuffy bastard.” Noctis remarked. He sat down by Prompto, across from Gladio. “You’ve been busy being a stranger to us.”

            “Give me a break.” Gladio huffed.

            “We are giving you a break! That’s why we invited you in the first place.” Prompto chimed in. “Where’s Iggy?”

            “He went to park the car.” Noctis explained. He looked at Gladio. Like Prompto he had a long stare.

            “Can I help you?” Gladio finally spoke up.

            “You look… tired.” Noctis remarked.

            “You know all about looking tired.” Gladio replied.

            “Is my dad busy busting your chops?” Noctis leaned in, and grabbed a menu from the window.

            “He’s busy bustin his own.” Gladio remarked. “I’m just double checking something he told me to look over.”

            “What’s that?”

            “King stuff.”

            “Ohh, you can’t tell us then?” Noctis scoffed. “Typical.”

            “Be nice, Noctis.” Ignis’s voice finally chimed in.

            “Iggy.” Prompto remarked cheerily. “The gangs all here.”

            “Indeed.” Ignis immediately took his seat beside Gladio, and then waved his hand at the work. “Gladio, put that away.”

            Gladio looked up, “One sec.”

            “Now, Gladio.”

            Gladio sighed, and eventually tucked the papers away after a good minute.

            “You’ve been rather distracted by your new job.” Ignis remarked. “We couldn’t help thinking you need a break or two.”

            “You sound like Regis.”

            “ _Regis?_ ” Noctis chimed in.

            “Yeah. I call him that sometimes.” Gladio shrugged. “He tells me I need to take a break all the time.”

            “Well you should listen.”

            “I am, aren’t I?” Gladio gestured. A waitress set down some glasses of water, and Gladio gestured her to come closer. “Can I get a burger and fries? Chocolate shake.”

            “Sure.” She replied. “You all ready to order?”

            Ignis just decided to order the same, and Prompto and Noctis ordered the salmon. Gladio bunched up the paper wrapper of the straw, and dripped little drops of water on it to watch it expand and unravel.

            “So Gladio, tells about the new job.” Ignis remarked.

            Gladio had a deep sigh, and looked up, and realizing they were all looking at him. “It’s… fine I guess.”

            “You hate it.” Noctis replied.

            “No.” Gladio rolled his eyes. “Just been busy. Don’t have much time to do anything else.”

            “We noticed.” Noctis said.

            “All the more reason for us to ask you to join us.” Ignis added.

            “Right.” Gladio replied. “It’s important to me, okay? I want to take this seriously. Even if it’s hard work… I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

            “That’s good then, right?” Prompto chirped.

            “Not if it’s so important you get distracted from anything else… try to exercise some restraint. You are usually the type to go a little overboard sometimes.” Ignis warned. “You could benefit from being a little more well-rounded.”

            “The longer we waited for the ceremony, the more slack I had to pick up.” Gladio returned. “It was bound to happen. I just gotta focus and—”

            Gladio was interrupted by a phone ringing. He reached to get it, only to feel Ignis’s hand.

            “Don’t get it.”

            “What if it’s an emergency?”

            “Today is your day off.” Ignis reinforced.

            “Let me take this.” Gladio pushed Ignis with his body, and Ignis pulled away, and out of the booth. Gladio grabbed his briefcase, and pulled the phone out of his pants, sliding a finger to answer.

            “Amicitia.” Gladio stated. “Titus? Yes sir. Take them to front. I’ll handle them. Yes sir. I can work on it… Interview? Yeah.” He pauses, nodding his head, and Ignis looks to him for a while. “I can do that now. Quicker the better.”

            “Gladio—” Ignis spoke up.

            “Kingsglaive just came back from the fight.” Gladio huffed, and shoved his phone away. “I gotta go.”

            “Gladio!”

            “Sorry. I’ll pay you back later.” Gladio turned, and walked out, passing by the waitress with two orders of salmon and two orders of burgers, with one chocolate milkshake. He flashed her a smile, and turned away, and walking down the sidewalk, and refusing to turn around, lest he see their faces in the window.

* * *

 

Several cots were set up in the medical wing of the Kingsglaives Headquarter. Gladio had been there several times, even not in uniform they made it a thing to salute at him and bow and speak and call him ‘Sir Amicitia’ before stating anything. There’s a lot of beeping, a strong smell of disinfectant, the rush of an air-conditioner hits him overhead, and he really feels how strange it is to not feel the tassels of his coat rattle around.

            “Drautos.” Gladio saluted, and Titus, large and massive as he was, looked small as he knelt and bowed.

            “Came back from Norduscae.” Titus explained. “One just woke up, we need your permission for interview and a witness.”

            “Debriefing them? So quickly? Shouldn’t they rest?”

            “We’re not sure they’ll ever wake up if they go back to sleep.” Titus put it as that.

            Gladio could see why.

            Their name was Mira Deist. A dragoon tech specialist, formerly Niff, formerly Tenebraean, eventually jumped the Lucian border and joined the Glaive. She was in her late 40s, had white-blond hair, dark brown eyes, pale looking skin, some freckles. She was stern and kind, not much for education, but a fighter, looking to help her two kids through college, hoping for a better life in Insomnia. She was told never to trust a Lucian, and she had in turn put her whole life in their hands.

            She was unrecognizable. Face was black and blue, as well as most of her limbs. What was left of it. She had just gotten out of surgery, and one leg was amputated from the knee, the other was just the ankle. One hand was bandaged up so badly it wasn’t even visible, and then had a cast plastered over it. Some of her hair was singed off. Bright angry red patches of skin eradicated the freckles and paleness that was once there. She had been torn apart, and she breathed so raggedly that Gladio knew she must’ve broken a few ribs. Gladio knelt down, hearing her wheezing, and touched her hand.

            “Deist.” He whispered.

            She was already awake; her eye was just so swollen and dark it was hard to tell.

            “Can you speak?” Gladio asked.

            A slow turn of her head. She nodded. “Little bit.” The voice that came out was not Mira Deist. It was ancient, and painful, and rattling and hoarse.

            He didn’t really know where to go with this. Titus stepped in.

            “Gladiolus will be witnessing your response.” Titus explained. “We need you to tell us everything Mira. As much as you can. It’s gonna be a long hour, but we need to get this done. Okay?”

            Mira nodded. The bandage covering her burnt scalp was loosening. Titus leaned over, and with expert care, he began to tuck away the bandages, and help readjust her eye bandage. Gladio watched, seeing Titus remove his gloves, his large hands could cover Mira’s whole face, and with such a large structure, he could be so gentle, moving her upright.

            “Do you know who you are?” Titus started, and Gladio immediately removed his cellphone to record everything.

            “Mira Deist.”

            “Do you remember your objective?”

            “Attempt to reclaim the Leide area. Take down Fort Norduscae.”

            “Good.” Titus replied. “That’s right.”

            Mira nodded. She swallowed and seemed to wince.

            “You need something to drink?” Titus asked.

            “Hurts… to swallow.” She murmured.

            Titus nodded. He got a paper cup of water sitting by her bed, and then took a clean cloth, and soaked it in the cup of water, and dabbed the wetness around her bruised lips, and then at her mouth, to give her some sort of relief, since her mouth and throat was dry. Something she didn't have to swallow. She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t, and just blinked, and leaned back. After a moment, he stopped, tucked her hair behind her ear, and continued.

            “You remember what happened to your team?”

            A long pause. She shut her eyes tight as she could, and felt and saw everything.

            “Y-es…” Her voice was breaking, and Titus leaned in, and carefully touched her head and shook his own head saying,

            “No no. Don’t. It’ll hurt to cry. Your nose will clog up, your throat will hurt, your face will burn, your eyes will ache, it’ll only hurt more. Don’t cry. Mira just stay here. Mira just be blunt, and stay here.”

            “I lose them all…” She whispered so quiet Gladio strained to hear her. “I’m so sorry—”

            “You did your job, you did everything you could.” Titus told her. “You need to focus Mira. Listen to me. What happened?”

            “…” She wheezed a harsh breath. “Cerberus.” She murmured.

            “You attacked at daytime.”

            “It was like… a Magitek…” she explained. “They armor… and… and the daemon… it can survive… Commander Loqi… knew we were coming.”

            “It was an ambush.” Titus remarked.

            “Yes…”

            Gladio hears every gory detail from her, every death, how she had lost everyone on her team, how the Niffs took them and attempted to hostage them, then decided to just kill them for amusement, and Titus has a grim look on his face the whole time. It seemed Niflheim was also aware of Clarus’s death, but not aware that Gladio was the new shield—although they had predicted it. There’s more details, but Gladio cancels it out. He can’t take it. His stomach is churning. Titus has to hit him on the shoulder and say ‘we’re done here, let’s go.’ And Gladio bows at the woman, not realizing she had finished, and was looking to the side, eyes glassy and distant.

            He turns off the recorder, and walks out the room, Titus shuts the door behind them.

            “I’m sorry, this is just how we have to do this. I needed to call you on short notice.” Titus remarked. “Usually, I do this with my second in command, but instead, the Shield, or the Crownsguard Marshal will fill in. In the event of testifying to legality sake.” Titus explained – and Gladio appreciated it. He was one of the few that would explain a damn thing to Gladio, he’d been piecing things together by himself for the past month.

            “Cor had to leave, but Mira woke up just after he departed, so I figure I call you.” Titus explained.

            “Good thinking. Sorry I wasn't much help, I haven’t really done this before.”

            “You did fine. Mira is in a bad spot.”

            “What happened to her? Is there any medical conclusions? … I couldn't tell just looking at her.”

            “Her brain is hemorrhaging.” Titus put it simply. “We weren't sure she was going to wake up. We’re gonna call her boys, let em see her now. We don’t know if she can stay awake… that’s why this was so urgent. Again, I apologize for such short notice. Cor and my Second in Command both not being available isn’t common, this isn’t usually a Shield’s job.”

            “No problem. Anything I can help out with is my job.” Gladio replied. “What about your second in command? Where are they?”

            “They’re downstairs.”

            “What’s downstairs?”

            Titus pointed to a Directory of the Kingsglaive Headquarters, which was resting at the wall beside the elevator, and Gladio’s eyes immediately went down to the bottom of the list.

  * B – BASEMENT FLOOR: MORGUE



* * *

            The amount of dead was still unknown, but Gladio could tell it was a couple dozen from the size of the stack of paper given to him. Titus had gone through getting everyone shittily written reports, having a scribe type them out, and then having the typed-out version sent to Gladiolus. Gladio sat in his office, staring at the impressive stack of papers. He’d seen a lot of papers, but some of them just needed archiving, which meant he sent them to someone else. This time he actually had to go through everything.

            It was mostly pointless, but the report needed to be organized, and Gladio needed a full timeline and explanation to be in order. He also needed to sign every single death certificate and archive them. Gladio knew he was spending too much time on them. He eventually found Titus’s second in command, and out of curiosity, went to the Cause of Death.

            Blunt force trauma.

            The picture was hard to look at. Gladio signed it. He went down the row trying to get through it as fast as possible. He couldn’t help looking at the names, at how he knew some of them, about how he went to school with her daughter, or how he knew one of them – 20 year old, would stalk Noctis constantly, and Gladio imagined he thought being in the Kingsglaive would actually give him a chance to see Noctis.

            Cause of Death: Electroshock.

            Gladio hears something shuffling by the door of the office, and he stands up, stepping away from the desk in one fluid motion. “Enter.”

            “ _Oh_.” It’s a quiet voice. The door opens. He recognizes Crowe Altius – she has a bandage on her chin, a thin paper in her hands.

            “Altius.” Gladio got used to referring to people by their last names.

            She went to attention, and saluted. “Sir.” She stated. “Excuse me. I thought you’d gone home. This a report from the Captain. Just came in.”

            “Bring it here.”

            Crowe handed over the paper. Gladio looked down at it.

            LUCIS STANDARD CERTIFICATE OF DEATH

Decedents Legal Name:

Deist, Mira

            Gladio stared for a long time, reading everything on the paper. He started reading everything about Mira. She was 49. She had two kids. She was born in Niflheim. She had cesarean section scars from the autopsy report. Gladio heard a noise, and looked up at Crowe.

            “—if you want?”

            Gladio looked up, eyes wide, and blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

            “Uh, me and the guys are gonna go drink tonight? Just wanted to know if you wanted to come? If you want.” Crowe repeated.

            Gladio seemed a bit surprised. He didn’t know her very well, and he didn’t expect any invitations to anything really. Crowe expanded on it.

            “You taking up the mantle and all that, I get it, I just figure, you’re still young, maybe you should chill out and spend some time. I know your father never really accepted, so, look I get it—”

            “Clarus used to drink with you?”

            Crowe made a face and shrugged. “The Captain would try to convince him, but Clarus never did. He was… kinda distant.”

            _You don’t know the half of it._ Gladio set the paper down. “Sorry. I’m busy. I don’t know when I’ll head out.” He explained. “Thank you. Maybe some other time.”

            “It’s pretty late already.” Crowe remarked, looking at the clock. She reminds herself this is a Senior Lucian Official, a Shield of the King, and that she really shouldn't be so casual, even if everyone used to be so casual with Clarus. She steps back, “Well, I’ll be out. See you later.” She bowed, and headed out quietly.

            “Thank you.” Gladio repeated. He didn’t realize how tight his chest felt, how harsh his voice was. He looked down at his phone, slid his thumb on instinct, and accidentally opened up on Ignis’s text. He grunted, and clicked the power off so the screen went dark. He didn’t want to see it again. He told him enough about what happened today, and Ignis wanted more an explanation, and Gladio just didn’t have one. He massaged the back of his neck with his own hand, and worked through the papers.

            Cause of Death: Strangulation

            Cause of Death: Drowning

            Cause of Death: Blood Loss

            Cause of Death: Blunt Force Trauma

            The list goes on and on and on and Gladio gets sicker and sicker as he looks at their faces and they’re people, and knows they are human, parents, children, aunties, uncles, a part time tutor, an ex-fireman, a refugee, a father of three, one was three weeks pregnant—and it wasn’t confirmed until the autopsy.

            The last one he looks at. He looks at for a long time. Looks at Mira and knows in her picture that is the face she wore in death.

             Cause of Death: Stroke

             He looks at her face. The same face he saw just a few hours ago. He looks at the picture and tells himself she is not sleeping, she is not sleeping.

            Clarus is not sleeping.

            She’s gone. She had two children. Did they see her in time? Did she say anything to them? Was she awake? What was the last thing she ever said? Was it what she told Titus? Was it something calm? When death came to her, was it fast? Was it peaceful? Was she in pain?

            What was the last thing Clarus ever said?

            _I’ll be back tonight. Don’t wait for me._

            Gladio didn’t wait for him. He didn’t sit at dinner and wait until the food was too cold and the drink was too warm and Gladio sat there with his legs swinging because he wasn’t tall enough to reach the floor yet thinking Dad will come home soon. No. That was a long time ago. He ate fine that night, and had seconds, and even thought about thirds, and went to sleep and was rudely awakened at 4am to learn his dad had bit the dust.

            Clarus Amicitia was dead.

            Who is Clarus Amicitia?

            Who _was_ Clarus Amicitia?

            He doesn’t know. He never knew. This office doesn’t provide answers, it just provides thousands of things that need to be done and Clarus should be the one doing it. Clarus Amicitia should be here, and Gladio should’ve been at home complaining about how the wi-fi still wasn’t working and how Fluf the Chow-chow needs a bath and he shouldn’t have known Mira today and shouldn’t have to meet her and shouldn’t see her on this paper, sleeping, dying.

            He’s crying so hard he feels like he’ll throw up. He’s crying so hard he doesn’t hear someone come in, and then a more rushed sound of a cane hitting marble, and the voice— _Gladio, Gladio._

            Gladio feels someone grab his face, and he wrenches himself away from the desk and sees Regis standing there.

            “ _Your Majesty_ —” what a broken voice, and Gladio feels himself shuddering, unable to collect himself.

            Regis pulls him away from the desk, and holds his jaw with a firm grip, and Gladio feels so humiliated and pathetic to look like this—in front of the King! The King of Lucis, seeing his shield as a pathetic mess, it shouldn’t be this way, it should never be this way.

            “Gladio, please, look at me.”

            Gladio finally turns his head to Regis. Regis looks so concerned, so careworn, carved into his skin. His eyes crinkled, his thumb his cold and it wipes Gladio under his eyes. Gentle. He uses his finger and Gladio feels the Ring of the Lucii on his cheek and he shuddered.

            The episode ends. Flaccid. Quick. Gladio pants, feels his hands shaking, but he stops himself from crying anymore. He couldn’t even bring himself to cry anymore. To collapse inside that sensation again. Regis uses his own raiment and wipes Gladio’s face.

            “Gladio, I should’ve come sooner.” Regis spoke. “I heard you were still here… I thought it was your day off—what’s wrong?”

            “Is it always going to be like this?”

            Regis looked utterly confused. Gladio swallows thick, feeling how much it ached to cry, and remembering how Titus told Mira not to cry because it would hurt.

            “Is it always going to be like this? When you watch them die? You just… it hurts.” His voice cracks on the word _hurts_ , and Regis can feel it inside himself. It settles in him. Some horrible feeling. He cups Gladio’s face, knows his hands are cold, and Gladio’s face feels hot, burning on his skin from the crying. “I don’t know them. I don’t even _know_ them!” Gladio huffed, and felt his breathing get erratic, and he tried to calm down.

            “Gladio…” Regis’s voice sounds so soft, so quiet and concerned and so in pain, and Gladio knows why. He shouldn’t be like this in front of the King. This was the King of Lucis! Where had his decency gone?  Gladio wondered for a while, but Regis spoke up. “I know…this isn’t for the faint of heart. This is not an easy job. You knew this. You’ve been doing well. I’m inspired by you. Gladio don’t overwhelm yourself.” He sounded so concerned. Gladiolus clutched Regis’s arm, and felt himself leaning against Regis.

            “I don’t even know him… how am I supposed to be like him?” Gladio whispered low and desperately. He doesn’t specify. Regis knows. He knows what Gladio means.

            “You aren’t. I won’t ever expect that of you.” Regis spoke. “I just want you to heal yourself.”

            He doesn’t know why, it feels better when Regis says it. It feels better that Regis says “I” instead of “We” because so many people had assured him that everyone felt a certain way. That everyone was going to think and feel the same. That everyone wanted to apologize to Gladio for his loss. That everyone was thinking of him. And Regis always had to speak on behalf of everyone. Hearing him speak on behalf of himself was different. Gladio wasn’t familiar with it.

            “I don’t know how to heal myself, your Majesty.” His voice feels raw and painful. Gladio feels Regis’s arm around him, bringing him closer. Gladio feels himself pressed against Regis’s sternum, feeling the fabric against his face. Regis cups the back of his head.

            “This can be its own way of healing.” Regis remarked, and Gladio feels his hand on his face again and Gladio feels overwhelmed –

            “I don’t think I can.” Gladio hasn’t even cried much about it. He just can’t. It feels clogged. Like there’s a stopper, and he can’t let it out.

            “I’ll allow you.” Regis speaks like it’s a King’s decree. An order, a law from above and Gladio can’t deny that, can he? Not as a shield. Not as a man devoted to serving this King.

            His hand slowly clutches Regis’s hip, his face buried against the King’s side, he feels the fabric on his face turn wet, and there’s a choked ruined sound, and finally; he cries.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, feel free to follow me at https://arcadiaocean.tumblr.com/ if you'd like to send me a request. Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed, and tell me what you liked. I love to hear from you guys.


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